


Nothing Without A Little Chaos

by the_last_dillards



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: A series of extremely improbable events, Dominion Occupation of Deep Space Nine, Dominion War (Star Trek), Gen, Reoccupation of Bajor, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23065354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_last_dillards/pseuds/the_last_dillards
Summary: During the Dominion occupation of the station, a group of Cardassians blow off some steam at Quark’s and discuss recent events.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 46





	Nothing Without A Little Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this bit from 'mirage' by cheloniidae: _“Really, it’s enough to make him wonder whether Humans, unbeknownst to themselves and an unsuspecting Alpha Quadrant, exude some sort of probability distortion field. It would explain quite a lot about them. The second-hand stories Doctor Bashir tells him about the Enterprise… What a fascinatingly improbable expedition.”_ It’s an amazing work and I highly suggest it!

“It’s the Federaji. They’re cursed.”

There was a chorus of groans at the table. An old Cardassian man, a conscriptee and no more in rank, sat surrounded by much younger officers at their usual table in Quark’s Bar.

A Dalin by the name of Arn took a long swig of kanar before replying, “Oh come on, not again, Bruul.”

He slapped a hand on the table. “It’s true! You’re young. Probably still a hatchling during the Border Wars. None of you have ever been stationed on an old Federaji station or base before. This is my third.”

“You’re superstitious! Nearly as bad as these Bajorans.” 

It was a statement that no one would dare make against a man of his decade, if not that man were Bruul. Crazy, foolhardy Constriptee Bruul. Low of birth, low of regard, he was a common target for the fresh faced officers who made a pastime of goading and mocking him. They were eager to hear his stories and snickered over them to his face while he let it pass by, seemingly oblivious to what was right in front of him. 

And yet, somehow, this bygone had managed to spend almost fifty years serving the state on the front lines. It was the only thing he knew how to do; cleaning the corners of engineering during downtime and monitoring stats on the warp core during battle. 

But it was not his job nor his birth, no matter how lowly it was considered in the strict stratification of Cardassian society, that had earned him such disrespect. No, it was that Bruul, in many ways, was considered a bit eccentric. Or in the many other words that he had been referred to over the years as: crazy, nutters, loony, senile, having a stembolt missing from his hull. 

Bruul leaned in towards the bunch, a hand gesturing his point. “Yes, but consider this. It turned out that those superstitions came from something real in the end. I don’t know how or why, but humans bring something with them. Something...dangerous, chaotic, that upturns all basic logic and sense. They leave its influence on everything their grimy little hands touch.” 

Arn rolled her eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Can you, any of you, say that anything quite like the things we’ve all experienced in these last few months have ever occurred in your military career? _In your life?_ These sorts of incidents would be once in a lifetime on any ordinary Cardassian holding, and yet they happen nearly every week here! And this is what it’s like on every Starfleet vessel and facility.”

A scientist who had been brought aboard for the endeavor to disarm the mines spoke up, “We’re also located right next to a spatial and temporal anomaly.” 

Arn continued with, “And even so, how would you have any way of knowing that that’s just how _every_ Starfleet effect is like?”

But Bruul was ready. “Oh? And would a wormhole explain the holosuite accident last week? Or what about the 43rd Squadron’s abduction into a mirror universe a month before? A universe _already_ tainted by this one’s Federaji presence?”

Arn opened her mouth to respond but she was beaten to it by Dalin Tola, who sat on one side of her and leaned over to address the Glinn on Arn’s other. “Speaking of which, Petrok, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. Is it true what they say about some sort of Alliance between Cardassia and Bajor and the Klingons? That the Federation was conquered and were our slaves? And about the alternate Gul Dukat?”

“Oh, may the State guide me! You would not believe the things I saw. The Gul was a terrorist working under a Terran thug they called Smiley. This Alliance and the Dominion were at war, and the alternate Dukat forced us into some convoluted plan to rescue the Vorta, Weyoun, who was a spy for them and also his lover!”

The table was full of gasps, scandalized faces, and the satisfied grins of those receiving some particularly juicy gossip. “No! You must be making it up!”

“Ask Glinn Oksol. He was the commander on duty when our ship was transported. Apparently, they have the ability to transport between universes and have been experimenting with bringing entire ships back and forth. And get this. The Federation hasn’t just tainted their world. Oh no. Their whole society only exists that way because they’ve been meddling in it for the last century or so! Before that, there had been some sort of human empire.”

“Isn’t that what they are already?” someone called out. 

The group erupted into drunken giggles before Bruul took the stage again, a good portion more bold now that he had finished his entire bottle. 

“As I said! These are customary occurrences for them! Why, I once spent more than 1400 cycles caught in a time-loop! It was the same day over and over again, always the same replicator slop, always scrubbing the same vole feces from the same corner. I tried everything. Took control of the ship, poisoned the voles and the crew, made love to my cabin mate,” a few glances were exchanged, “transported myself into the vacuum of space, and still I woke up again as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t until in a fit of rage that I threw cleaning solution at a console, inadvertently releasing the strange energy cloud that we had been holding for study, that I was free.”

There was a bout of silence as the group ruminated on the implications of the many crimes this man had just openly admitted to committing, albeit in various other timelines.

Petrok broke it. “You know what I heard? One of those Q beings came by to check up on the station a few days ago. He threw a fit when he found out the old Captain wasn’t here to harass anymore. Gul Dukat tried to please him and bring him over to our side but he just complained in front of the entire Ops that people who suck up aren’t any fun.”

The scientist leaned in. “Do you think it’s the Q who are doing all this?”

Petrok just shrugged. “They are known to be rather fond of the Federation. Could be a deal between them to push us off the station.”

“Possibly, but some of it just doesn’t make sense. If they’re so powerful, why go through so much trouble?”

“Maybe they’re bored,” someone volunteered.

Arn threw back the rest of her drink and spat out, “Then they’re sadists. What type of creature would reanimate corpses to be flesh-eating, decaying husks the way that virus did a couple weeks back, just for fun?” 

The Dalin held a particular grudge at this event. She had been placed in charge of corpse clean-up duty afterwards and hadn’t been quite the same since. The group collectively shuddered at the memory.

Bruul rambled in with his own commentary, “Reminds me of another disease back on Ferrok Nor. Gave the infected an unbearable thirst for blood. Also, raised their libido. Actually, that was one of the few fun incidents.”

He received yet another several sets of side-eyes before a sudden commotion occurred as Glinn Rukol raced into the bar. “Have you heard about the incident?!”

“Obviously not,” Arn snapped.

“Third Chek’Yiral and Glinn Lomak were both transporting onto the station when something went wrong with the computer and now...well, they’ve switched bodies!”

Petrok stood alarmed. “But they can’t stand each other!”

“I know!” Rukol said.

The scientist started getting up. “Well, I, for one, would like to catch a glimpse of this.”

Rukol started back towards the entrance with most of the group of officers in tow. “They were trying to run them through the transporter again to see if they could fix it but if it didn’t, they’ll probably be on their way to the infirmary right now.” His voice drifted off as they moved away.

Bruul just shook his head, examined the label of his bottle, and gestured for a waiter so he could make a complaint about the quality of his kanar. Some poisons did not come from the Federaji touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is based off the quote: “Life is nothing without a little chaos to make it interesting” - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes
> 
> Kudos and comments only egg me on :)


End file.
